The Introspections of a Mirthful Moirail
by Lora Helen
Summary: Moirallegiance is a great way to calm the beast. Gamzee himself certainly can't deny it, but time alone is time to think, and sometimes musings take unexpected turns... how easy is it to turn your back on the Dark Carnival? - Spoiers. Character Thoughts.


_Disclaimer - The characters of course, are not mine, this was not written for profit, etc._

_A/N - This was just written as a bit of fun and to have a bash at writing post sober, post moirail connection Gamzee. This is a build up to me writing a gift fic for one of my friends, a bit of personal characterisation as I try to grasp exactly how I want to portray Gamzee at this point in time._

_This is a one shot~ I'm not sure if I'm going to start an actual fic for Homestuck or not, I just decided to write something. That's just about all I have to say on that though. I hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong><span>The Introspections of a Mirthful Moirail<span>**

The floor was cold underneath him, the chill passing through the fabric of his trousers altogether too easily, but he could ignore it. He could ignore almost anything with the noise that the screaming thoughts were making in his thinkpan. His narrow back was pressed against the chill wall, his shoulders curled over so that his long, lanky arms could pull his legs up to his chest and wrap them in place. With his feet pressed flat on the floor, his head was bowed down to press his forehead to his knees.

As he sat there he could feel how close he'd come to the smothering oblivion he'd been sunk in before. So close, but not quite in reach... the comfortable soothing of his moirails touch, even the gentle papping and shooshing just wasn't enough to disband his thoughts the same complete... sickening way the slime had done before. He supposed that was a good thing. He certainly wasn't filled to the brim with rage any longer, though there was a whole cacophony of feelings which had swept in to fill the void the rage had left behind. They were confusing now, after such a spell of simplistic straight forward actions, and far less easy to act on.

Despite the fact he was collapsed on the floor, it had only been minutes since he'd been a part of a pale embrace. He'd smiled. They'd both smiled and for a moment it felt like the days before their game... but moments after his mind had been once again filled with more coherent thoughts. Then, as quickly as all of this strange and unexpected new chapter had been commenced it had been over... and then he'd been alone. He felt a little disjointed, disconnected, discombobulated... disturbed.

He lifted his face away from his knees, the slashes across his face had smeared purple across his the fabric of his trousers. As he flexed his jaw, the marks carved into his skin shifted and seared with sharp pain, but he pushed that aside as easily as he'd ignored the cold. His makeup was smeared almost beyond recognition, more a grimace now than a smile. It was rather fitting. Though his lips portrayed even less humour than the smeared face paint. He didn't feel right. The clarity of thought which had spawned from the lack of toxins fucking with his think pan was messing with him almost as much as the poisonous slime had. The new Moirallegiance that he now shared with Karkat was keeping him stable, keeping him steady and placid... and only too able to think about what he'd done... what he was... and what he was still only too capable of doing if he got out of control again. What he'd do right now if he could.

Knowing all of that left him feeling motherfucking weird. He knew he should have felt guilty in every motherfucking part of his being... maybe even felt disgusted with himself for what he'd done. He should have felt disgusted by the fact that he'd killed the little feline troll. He should have felt shame and loathing for choking the life out of the eternally strong Equius. He should have railed against himself for cutting off the heads and daubing the blood of his former friends across the walls and floor in a beautiful miracle smear of colour. . But despite knowing all of that, knowing what he should feel as he thought back over the hours of clarity, he knew that they were not feelings that currently resonated though him. Not fully at least. There was still that little part of him which would have been willing to sink back into the dark carnival. That craved its madness.

As he sat curled on the floor Gamzee fought to come to terms with the ways in which he'd changed once again. Slime to Sober, sobriety leading to homicidal madness, and from the madness to this strange mess of feelings now. Knowing what he'd done. There was also a layer of guilt for being the one to do it, and yet some strange feelings of pride deep in the dark inside him which railed against the guilt. He wanted to be rid of those feelings, he really did...Didn't he? But there was just this voice in the back of his mind whispering to him, soft, persuasive and alluring. Urging him to remember what he'd realised only hours before. To keep alive the knowledge that he was better than them. Equius had been right. How he'd been before was a disgust and a disgrace. His blood was higher in the haemospectrum than theirs was... he could kill them if he wanted... He knew he had Karkat to thank for the fact he didn't want to any longer. The homicidal urge was gone. He didn't want to give in... but at the same time he desperately did.

It was hard to know who you were when you'd changed so much, so many times, so quickly. When you'd never been brought up right in the first place. It was hard to know what you wanted when you wanted two very different things. Befriending them was not the same as killing them. Conversation was not the same as vicious denouncement. A cheery smile could hardly mean the same as a look of disgusted superiority. How was he supposed to act? The former each time felt easier... it was the way he was 'supposed' to be. The way they were expecting him to be, the way he knew he wanted to be... mostly wanted to be. But it was still so hard to ignore that small, shrouded urge, the dulled desire. The Sopor pies had helped in the past... but what they'd done to him had been a travesty and a villainous slur against his rich indigo blood.

He uncurled his arms from around his legs and let his eyes slip down to regard his rainbow stained hands. His friends... they had been his friends no matter what they'd seen in him. He still wanted that. Their friendship. He might outrank them, they might have been happy to see him turn himself into a motherfucking waste of hivespace... most of them anyway. But he remembered that friendship. It was a good feeling. Chatting to a friend. Laughing and joking. He still wanted those things. Something normal to cover the bubbling core of violence that sobriety had awakened in him. If he wanted friends he had to keep it inside... he had to stop it seeping back to the surface... he could only be part of who he was, he had to mix it with who he'd been.

"Honk." The noise slipped past his lips, somewhat self mocking in its intonation. He could live with that. He'd have to. His lips curled into a slightly wicked smile, parting enough to show his sharply pointed teeth. "Well shit motherfucker..." It didn't matter to him that he was speaking onto to himself. "I guess I gone and got it all motherfucking figured out." He lifted his hand up a little higher than the level of his face, letting his eyes rise to run over the wash of colours that still clung to the grey skin. "I can look at them all... and know how motherfucking beautiful they are on the inside." He had no idea what was going to happen next, but it was a game he was going to have to learn to play. A Mirthful Messiah could smile at anything after all.

**End**

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><p><em>Well, that's that done! I'd appreciate a review as always, but thank you for reading regardless! All the best x<em>


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